Act II: Watered Soil
by Bellarsam Chrisjulittle
Summary: The second part of my story "Fleur de L'Amour."  Please read Act I before reading this story in order to better understand.  Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

For the first time in the history of the Von Trapp family, Uncle Max Detweiler was the first to arrive at the breakfast table. He was utterly flabbergasted to find the dining room empty when he entered. Something clearly had happened that he didn't know about.

When Frau Schmidt came in with the coffee to pour into his and the Captain's cups, she greeted him and he said, "Hello, Frau Schmidt. Has a witch come to whisk away everyone else in the house and leave us alone?"

Frau Schmidt had the briefest of smiles for him before turning somewhat somber again and answered, "The Captain is upstairs with his children. Told me he needed to speak to them urgently before breakfast in private . . ."

The troubled expression on her face intrigued Max, so he continued, "Is Fraulein Maria with them?"

Frau Schmidt gave a heavy sigh, looked towards the doorway, then moved closer to him to say confidentially. "I have not seen her at all, and she is generally up right after myself. She wasn't in with the family for their talk. When I went to her room, she wasn't there . . . and I saw that her guitar case and carpetbag were gone."

Max's eyes widened in shock. "She hasn't _left_, Frau Schmidt?"

Frau Schmidt sighed sadly. "It certainly looks that way, Herr Detweiler, as much as I wish it weren't true."

Max looked upwards, thinking of the sad family that was sure to come down to breakfast. "Oh, things will be a lot more gloomy around here now . . ."

"Mmm," said Frau Schmidt absently and sadly. She, too, had enjoyed the new happiness in the household.

"Frau Schmidt, this seems so unexpected! Do you have any idea why she might have left?"

Frau Schmidt shook her head. "Honestly, I have no idea. I only know that Maria seemed extremely sad and introverted since the night of the party, not at all like herself. I'm not sure what changed. Perhaps she's struggling with something of her own . . ."

Max had noticed the change in Maria as well, and had been worried about the poor girl. At first, he'd suspected Elsa of saying something not very nice to her. But the strange thing was that since the party, the two women had become somehow closer; their farewell to each other had proved it. So Elsa, who now looked happy as ever, was ruled out. Which could only mean that whatever was bothering Maria had something to do with . . .

Max turned sharply towards the doorway when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs at a drudging pace. He winced inwardly as he watched each Von Trapp child come in and take their seat. Marta and Gretl had tear-streaked faces, the boys looked down at their feet the whole way, Louisa looked like she wanted to kick something, Brigitta looked shaky like her mind was racing, and Liesl was trying her best to not look to sad for her little sisters. Last of all came Georg, who had such a heavy air of sadness about him it struck a chord in Max. He was clearly just as affected as the children were.

Fraulein Maria was nowhere to be seen.

After exchanging half-hearted greetings, everyone sat down and for a moment, didn't know what to do. The children all looked at each other, wondering who would make the first move. On any other day, Maria would start the meal by saying 'grace;' it had become engrained in their routine. Now they were afraid to start eating without doing it, but who would say it?

"Liesl? Would you say grace for us, please?" asked Georg gently to his eldest daughter sitting beside him. She was surprised by his request, but nodded her head. In a somewhat shaky voice, she said Fraulein Maria's familiar blessing: "For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen."

"Amen," came the sad, melancholy responses from everybody, and for the first time since Fraulein Maria's arrival, the family ate in complete silence. This time, the only sounds were the clinking of silverware and stifled sobs.

* * *

><p>Both men seemed to know that a conversation needed to take place unconsciously, so both headed for Georg's study right after breakfast. The children had gone right back up to their rooms, still as sad as ever and not wanting to do anything. Georg knew that he could not let them mope forever, but since he felt as miserable as them, he decided to let them have today for their tears.<p>

Upon entering the room, Max closed the door behind them and watched Georg sink onto the couch, rubbing his face with his hand.

"Georg, is she really gone?"

"Gone," he replied in a dead voice.

"She must have left last night, then, after we'd all gone to bed," said Max, walking to the couch and sitting beside Georg. "Why do you think she would leave without saying good-bye like that?"

Georg exhaled and lowered his hand, clasping both together as he leaned forward, staring at nothing. "I found out this morning that she had left notes for each of the children, stating her reasons and reassuring them it was not their fault, how much she loves them, and they are welcome to visit her whenever they want."

"Well, I think that would be out of the question today," said Max, looking out at the cloudy and drizzling day. "I hope it wasn't raining when she left . . ."

"It wasn't."

Max turned his head sharply. So Georg not only knew she had left before his children did, he knew exactly when she had left. Something had happened. "Georg?" he said, the tone of his voice asking for the full story. Georg got the hint and began his story.

"Last night, I couldn't sleep so I went downstairs to make some tea. You know I always make it very hot. As I was exiting the kitchen I bumped into Maria and the water spilled. The water burned the back of her hand."

Max inhaled sharply through clenched teeth. "You didn't hear her coming?"

"No, she was quiet as a mouse," Georg replied. The deadness in his voice was being replaced by a deep sadness. "Of course, I insisted I clean her hand and wrap it in gauze, and she let me . . . Then, after I was done . . . I was foolish, Max, I let my hands linger on hers, and suddenly she is crying, begs me to stop and springs away from me."

The eyebrows on Max's face went up. "That's all that happened and she became _that _frightened?"

Georg gave a very deep sigh and his face tightened. He looked like a man who carried a great guilt on his shoulders. "Max . . . I ruined everything. It's all my fault."

Now Max became worried. He remembered the conversation he'd had with Georg three days ago, and instantly he became suspicious. "Georg, you'd better tell me now what happened before I assume what I never want to assume."

Georg looked at Max sharply but soon his expression turned to one of pure, tired regret. "Max, do you remember the conversation we had after the party?"

"How could I not?"

"Well . . . she overheard it." He shamefully hung his head again.

Max gasped and then immediately gave a sad sigh. "Oh, Georg, no . . ."

"Oh, yes," said Georg, twisting his fingers. "She said that . . . she no longer felt comfortable around me, as much as she loved working here and being with the children."

"Well, this does explain why she's looked so unlike herself since the party . . . but you tried, didn't you? To explain yourself?"

"I suppose," said Georg. "I didn't deny it, I told her I'd been frustrated and drinking a little, but that didn't change the fact that what I said stems from something true and powerful . . ."

"You mean your attraction, even . . . lust for her?"

Georg cringed at that word. Once he thought that was all he felt for her, just common lust. How wrong he had been. Slowly he shook his head. "No, Max . . . Yesterday, after delivering Elsa to the train station, I found myself going to Agathe's grave. I said good-bye and searched my soul for a while. When I came home, I saw Maria playing with the children . . . I realized the truth. I realized it again when I bandaged her hand and held it . . ." He turned to Max and finally said aloud. "I'm in love with her, Max."

Max looked at his friend and realized that Georg was telling the truth. It all made sense to him now, the looks he saw between them and the way they would glow. All at once, he felt a profound sympathy, compassion and understanding for Georg. "And that's why you let her go."

Georg nodded, looking at his hands again, head hung. "I just want her to be happy, and I have to respect her decision."

Max patted his shoulder. "Did you tell her of your feelings, Georg?"

Georg shook his head. "What good would that would have done, Max? She is a postulant, and has vowed her life to God. I would only have made her feel worse, even guilty."

"Have you ever considered the possibility she might feel the same way for you?" Max asked gently.

Now Georg seemed agitated and got up from the couch. "Max, don't say that. If she did, would she have left?" he practically snapped.

Max decided it may be best to leave this subject alone. At least, for now. Standing up himself, he said, "Well, we both know what you at least _cannot _do."

Georg looked at him curiously. "And what _cannot _I do?"

Max answered straightly: "You cannot become the man you were before she came."

Georg looked at Max for a long time. "That will never happen." And he meant it.

"Well, Georg, I will stay for as long as you need my help, and I will do my best to help things brighten up around here."

"While having two extra helpings of each meal," joked Georg weakly, but then turned seriously again. "Thank you, Max, I appreciate it." Max nodded and started to leave the room when Georg stopped him. "Oh, Max? Could you do one thing for me?"

Georg moved to the liquor cabinet, and Max instantly became wary. But Georg merely took the two remaining bottles of heavy liquor and handed them to Max. "Pour these down the drain, will you? I believe I've learned my lesson," he finished ironically.

Max managed a chuckle and took the bottles with him out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Oh my Jesus, forgive us our sins. Save us from the fires of hell and lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of thy mercy . . ."_

Maria's voice broke as a tear slid down her cheek. She whispered her _"Amen"_ into her hands, clasped in prayer and holding her rosary. She was kneeling in her favorite room of the abbey: the small chapel whose windows faced east. Before her was the lovely shrine to the Blessed Mother, holding her smiling infant Child. Maria could always find solace, comfort and safety in this room before . . . why couldn't she now?

Regaining her voice, Maria slid the third mystery pearl from between her fingers and clutched the miniscule metal chain between that and the next bead to begin the next prayer.

"_Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed by Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be . . ."_

Again, her voice disappeared, and a picture came into her mind: The night of the puppet show, after they had performed. Watching the Captain singing Edelweiss to his children, all sitting near him, looking at him adoringly. When he'd looked at her, and she looked at him and the children, she felt included, like she was . . . part of the family. A loving family.

She shook her head sharply, erasing the lovely image from her mind. _No, no, no, no, no._ That was behind her now; that part of her life was over, no matter how wonderful it was. Now she was back where she was meant to be, back home . . . yet it somehow didn't feel the same since she'd been gone . . . Nothing at the Abbey had changed in her eyes, but in her heart . . . Even her simple postulant's gown and wimple felt foreign on her. Perhaps living in a Baron's villa had spoiled her, but she knew that wasn't it . . . She needed to finish her prayers.

_"Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who . . ."_

Her prayers were again stopped as an image came to her mind: the Captain's face as he'd begged her to forgive him. And she had. Now she wished she had let him know. How was he now? Was he still sad? Why did she miss him as well as the children, even after what she'd heard him say? Why was he forever haunting her when she just wanted to forget him?

Giving an audible groan, Maria rubbed her face with one of her hands. Nothing was supposed to be how it was. She felt so guilty for feeling this way that she hadn't eaten since coming back to the Abbey. She'd asked to be in seclusion, only leaving her room to pray in the chapel and not speaking except in prayer. What else could she do? She didn't know what sin she'd committed but she must have done something to feel this way.

Resolving more firmly to do her penance, Maria redoubled her conviction in her prayers, forcefully keeping images of the Von Trapps out of her mind. She stared at the lovely face of the Blessed Mother and meant her prayer with all her heart, pleading for help:

_"Hail, Mary, full of grace; the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb: Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen."_

* * *

><p>The Reverend Mother of Nonberg Abbey was troubled, and she was not usually troubled. Her long life and experience as a nun had taught her patience and the ability to find peace of mind and rationality. But something had happened that morning that no one in the Abbey had expected.<p>

At dawn, as the sisters had been walking to morning prayers, the bell at the gate had sounded. It wasn't often they had visitors at such an early hour, so they were intrigued. Sister Margaretta had been the one to answer the call, and she gasped to see who stood behind the gate. The Reverend Mother had happened to be passing the gate on her own way to prayers when she spotted Sister Margaretta supporting the visitor from the gate. Her eyes had widened as she'd recognized Maria, a Maria whom she'd never thought she'd see.

This Maria looked drained, defeated, and incredibly sad. Her face was red, still holding traces of the tears she'd cried. Her hands were shaking slightly as she clutched her carpetbag and guitarcase. Breathing was deep and forcibly calm. Most of all, she had come unexpectedly, with no warning, and only half of the summer was over.

What in the world had happened to her?

But each time she had tried to see Maria, the Reverend Mother had either found her in the chapel – no interruptions except emergencies were allowed – or locked in her room, in seclusion. For now, the Reverend Mother had to accept Maria's wish to be alone. But sooner or later, the poor girl would have to come out. What had the Reverend Mother worried the most was not only how drastically Maria had changed, but also that she was not coming to meals. Maria was clearly depressed, even dangerously depressed. Because something had happened at the Von Trapp villa.

Deciding to find information in another way, the Reverend Mother pulled out a blank piece of writing paper from her desk drawer, dipped her fountain pen in her ink bottle, and began a letter:

_Dear Captain Von Trapp:_

_ The sisters and I were most surprised to find that this morning, with no warning or explanation, Maria had come back to us. Just that alone is enough for concern, but what is bothersome to me is Maria herself. She is not at all like her usual free-spirited self. She has locked herself in seclusion, refusing to come out for meals. She says not a word except in prayer. The sisters and I want desperately to help her, but we can only do that by finding out what has happened. Please understand I am making no assumptions, but because she has come back unexpectedly, with only half of the summer finished, I can only conclude that something has happened to her while under your care. I await your reply as soon as possible._

_God be with you._

_The Reverend Mother of Nonberg Abbey._

* * *

><p>It came as no surprise to Georg that he could not find sleep. Even though his eyelids were heavy and his body was fatigued, his mind was wide awake, picturing a certain young woman in his mind. It had been twenty-four hours since they'd had their encounter in the kitchen, and already that time seemed to belong in another life. Now Georg lived in a world that was infinitely less colorful and also darker.<p>

More than ever, he wished that he had Maria's gift of faith. More specifically, it seemed to come so easy to her. His own faith has all but disappeared when Agathe had died, and had been rekindled strongly with Maria. But now both were gone, and he didn't know what to do. But he knew what both would want him to do, so he decided to give it a try.

"_Dear Lord, you know what I want, but that is not what's important. All I ask is that you bless those who I most love: my children . . . and her. Be with them always. As long as they are happy and healthy, I care not what happens to me."_

The sound of the doorknob turning slowly caused him to sit up in bed. "Who is it?" he called out to the other end of the room.

The door opened slowly, and he recognized Marta in the doorway, holding her doll tightly to her chest. She was trembling, and he could hear her little sobs.

"Marta!" he said, rising from the bed, beginning to approach her slowly. No child of his had come to his room at night for years. He suddenly felt at a loss, wondering if he had the ability to comfort his own daughter. "What's wrong?"

"I-I-I had a n-nightmare," said timid Marta through her sobs. "So I ran to F-fraulein Maria's room, like I always did w-when I had a nightmare. I f-forgot that she's n-not here anym-more!" Her sobs stopped her voice, and she cried into the aritificial hair of her doll.

Georg could practically hear his heart tearing as he looked at his most shy child. Her and Gretl especially had become so attached to Maria, the only mother figure they'd ever known. He remembered how he had not comforted his children when Agathe had died. Not this time.

So he knelt down and opened his arms to his daughter. She immediately ran to him, dropping her doll in the process, sobbing uncontrollably into his night-shirt. Georg wrapped his arms around her securely, picking her up easily and soothing her with hushes and calm words.

"I w-want Fraulein Maria," cried Marta. "I miss Fraulein Maria! Can't you bring her back, Papa?"

"I'm sorry," was all Georg could say, over and over again. Tears were coming into his own eyes now, but he resolutely blinked them back. He needed to be strong for his children. "Would you rather sleep in here tonight, sweetheart?"

Marta nodded into his shoulder.

"All right." Georg picked up her doll before settling her down on the other side of his large bed. Now, he knew, he was making the right decision with his children. For both Agathe and Maria, he would be the best father he could be.


	3. Chapter 3

By the fourth day, enough was enough for the Reverend Mother. She told Sister Margaretta to bring Maria to her at midday, even if she was not yet ready. She'd been informed by the other sisters that Maria was barely eating or drinking anything, and still in seclusion. She'd never been so quiet before. That fact would have been celebrated had not the air of sadness about her been there.

Just before the appointment time came, the mail arrived. The Reverend Mother immediately leafed through the various letters, and was relieved to find what she had been hoping to find. Her address on the envelope along with the return address in the upper left hand corner were written in a strong, masculine yet elegant hand. Vaguely she recalled receiving a letter in the same hand, asking formally for a governess to his seven children. Now, she knew the letter would be of a very different nature.

Not knowing what terrible truths she might find on this piece of paper, the Reverend Mother carefully broke the seal, opened the envelope, and pulled out a letter to read:

_Dear Reverend Mother:_

_ I know that Maria's return to you is both premature and unannounced, and I apologize for the inconvenience of the situation. But that is not all that I must apologize for. It is my fault that Maria has come back so soon. I said things I should not have said that she nonetheless overheard. Things were revealed that caused her to no longer feel comfortable in my home, and I do not blame her in the slightest. The blame for this situation lies entirely on myself. I will forever regret that I never could treat her the way she deserved to be treated, so if I can do that now by letting her go it is at least some relief. If my children ever come to the Abbey to see her – undoubtedly they will – please let them see her, if only for a moment. The house, and my children, are so sad without her, but her reasons for leaving are justifiable. And to hear of the fact that she is not happy . . . well, I have already begged her to find it in her heart to forgive me. Please know that Maria has given my family so much: she gave the children the love they've lacked for so long, she brought music back into a house that has been quiet for too long, and she opened more than just my eyes to the beauty of life. For that I will be eternally grateful. I beg you to be patient, kind, and do all that can be done to make her happy. That is what matters most to me after all that has happened. Please accept my apologies for the unexpected return of her to you so soon. Please take good care of her._

_Sincerely,_

_Captain Georg Ritter Von Trapp_

The Reverend Mother's eyebrows had risen slowly as she'd read this letter, the contents of which she didn't know how to process. So he'd sent her back . . . if only he'd been more specific! Well, she would clearly have to get the details from Maria. One thing in the letter was certain, though: this was written by a man in as much pain as Maria seemed to be. This needed to be solved, and soon.

Thankfully, the noon hour was now struck, and precisely on time a knock came to her office door. "Ave!" she called, quickly putting the letter in her desk drawer. Sister Margaretta entered, motioning discreetly with her head that she was not alone. "Yes, bring her in."

Sister Margaretta gave a small bow and left the room, motioning for her companion to enter the office in the process. Sure enough, in came Maria. She approached the Reverend Mother slowly, as the Reverend Mother got up from the desk and walked around it in order to meet her. When near enough, she saw Maria's face crumple a little as she dropped to her knees before her, taking the hand the Reverend Mother offered.

The older woman placed her free hand on the head of the younger one. She could feel her pain and sorrow, and her heart broke for Maria. "You've been unhappy. I'm sorry."

Maria kissed the older woman's hand and rose, meeting the kind eyes she hadn't realized she'd missed so much. "Reverend Mother," she said, the way a daughter would greet her mother.

"Why did they send you back to us?" asked the Reverend Mother.

Pain shot across Maria's eyes before she answered. "They didn't send me back, Mother, I left."

Again, the Reverend Mother raised her eyebrows. In the letter, the Captain had said he'd let her go, so she'd automatically assumed it had been the Captain who'd sent her away. But now Maria said she had left without anyone else doing so . . . Needing to know the answers, the Reverend Mother said gently, "Sit down, Maria. Tell me what happened."

Maria and the Reverend Mother took their respective seats across from each other, and Maria took a few deep breaths, not even sure where to begin.

"Start at the very beginning," prompted the Reverend Mother gently, folding her hands in front of her and leaning forward, ready to listen.

The smallest of smiles flickered across Maria's face, remembering the first day she had taught the children "Do-Re-Mi," but just as soon the smile was gone, like a candle being blown out. But she took the Reverend Mother's advice and told her everything from the very first day. How the Captain and the children had been, how she'd won over the children, the argument with the Captain, and how his eyes had been opened. The Reverend Mother listened carefully, and some of the Captain's letter began to make sense. Maria had indeed done a lot for that family. What had gone wrong?

"You did the right thing," nodded the Reverend Mother. "Even if the Captain had fired you on the spot and didn't change his behavior, you were right to be honest. Though, I must say, only you would have yelled at him like that soaking in lake water."

Again, the ghost of a smile flickered across Maria's face, and shook her head. "I'm so outspoken . . . it really is terrible."

"Not when it's with the best intentions and brings about a greater good, my daughter. What happened after that? It seems as if everything was fine now."

Maria gave a hollow and bitter laugh. "Oh, yes, _fine._" Her tone was sarcastic and had begun to shake a little. "It was wonderful after that. I was content in my work and in my situation . . . until the party, that the Captain threw for the Baroness. I was outside the ballroom with the children, and the Laendler was playing. Kurt, the youngest boy, asked me to teach him. And while I was trying to do that . . . the Captain came, out of nowhere it seemed, and invited me to dance with him. And I did." The look in her eyes was distant and burning as she remembered. For a moment, she seemed lost for words, but then continued in a harder tone, "Later, when the party was over, I'd gone down to the kitchen for something, and when I passed by his study, I heard him talking about me to Max . . ." Suddenly tears came to Maria's eyes and she couldn't speak anymore.

"Maria?" The Reverend Mother became concerned. Recalling what the Captain had wrote about saying things he should not have said, she knew they'd reached the point where it had all went wrong. "It's all right, Maria, you can tell me."

Through tears that finally fell, Maria repeated the conversation she had overheard, the Baroness's departure, and the final encounter with the Captain to the Reverend Mother as quickly as she could. By the end, Maria was sobbing into her hands. The Reverend Mother sat there in shock, looking at the gauze still on Maria's hand. Strange how she hadn't noticed it before today. _Poor child_ thought the Reverend Mother, and stood up to walk around her, placing her hands on Maria's shoulders as she sobbed. "Shh…" she soothed, rubbing her shoulders comfortingly.

"I just couldn't stay anymore, Mother," Maria cried into her hands. "I couldn't stay, I just couldn't."

"I know, my daughter, I know," soothed the Reverend Mother. Getting a sudden idea, she helped Maria rise to her feet. "Come and walk with me."

Maria didn't care to question the Reverend Mother's intentions; she trusted her implicitly. So, she let the Reverend Mother link arms with her and lead her out of the office and into the abbey gardens. The day was lovely, partly cloudy and cool for summer. In their heavy black gowns and habits it was perfect. As Maria sat next to the only mother figure she'd ever really known, she found that she liked this better than being in her office. Less formal, with no desk between them, she was not scared or intimidated at all.

"Is there something more that is bothering you, Maria?" asked the Reverend Mother.

_How did she know? _thought Maria. She had not really wanted to talk about this to the Reverend Mother, for fear of being . . . reprimanded maybe. But looking into the woman's gently eyes, Maria knew she would not judge her, as some of the other sisters might. "His words about me were not the only reason I wanted to leave . . . something else that had been . . . brewing under the surface that I wasn't aware of for a while made me leave. For a long part of the time I was there, there were moments when I would feel . . . like I belonged, and . . . like I was home. Sometimes it would be with the children and sometimes it would be with . . ." Her voice seemed to disappear, but both women knew what she refused to say.

Soon enough, she continued fiercely. "But that was wrong! I mean, I was only sent there for the summer, and I found myself absolutely dreading the day of separation. _This _is supposed to be my home, and it was so selfish of me to . . . prefer the home of a rich family to the abbey."

"Maria," said the Reverend Mother gently. "You did nothing wrong. To truly sin is to commit an action knowing that it is wrong. You haven't even done any of that. And I know that it wasn't their riches that made it home for you there; it was because there was love in that home that you were part of and helped awaken."

Maria sighed, and nodded. That was good to know, but she still felt guilty.

"Do you remember what I told you the day I suggested you leave for a while?" asked the Reverend Mother.

Maria looked at the Reverend Mother. "That if I went away for a time, knowing what you expect of me, I would . . . I would . . ." She realized what this might mean as she spoke, and couldn't bring herself to finish it. "No, no, no, I've wanted nothing else in my life for years, why should things change now?"

"My daughter, it is perfectly natural to have doubts about anything, especially huge decisions like this. There is no need to feel ashamed. And, Maria, if this summer _has _made you realize that this life may not be for you –"

Maria shook her head fiercely. "But I've pledged my life to God, to His service! He has helped me through everything in my life, and save it too. What better way can I repay him by being here?"

"By living the life you were born to live, Maria," said the Reverend Mother firmly. "God loves each of His children and puts them on this Earth for a reason. If every person was meant to serve him as a priest or nun then humanity would have no future. Being a nun is not the only way to show God that you love Him. It does not mean you love God less than you should. Maria, you have a great capacity to love, and what you must find out now is how God wants you to spend that love. By spending it in the best way possible, where you are meant to spend your love, that will make God happiest."

Maria took a long shuddering breath as the Reverend Mother's words sunk in. While in her heart it made sense, she was scared and confused still. What would happen to her now? Where was she meant to be?

The Reverend Mother seemed to recognize the turmoil in this young woman she'd grown to love as a daughter. "Why don't you take some time for yourself, Maria? Go to your mountain, anywhere you need to go. Take a few days, if you need to."

Maria looked at the Reverend Mother and nodded. Yes, this was what she needed to do: go to a place where she could _always_ feel at home. "Thank you, Mother. I'll leave in the morning."

"Now, I want no excuses from you," said the Reverend Mother firmly. "You are to go to the kitchens and have a decent meal. You need your strength back."

As the Reverend Mother watched Maria walk away, she thought back to the letter she'd received that day. The way the Captain had written about Maria . . . all of the pieces were fitting together, but there was still one missing. In his writing, he seemed to truly care about Maria, perhaps more than care. And Maria, by the way she had avoided going into too much detail on the topic of the Captain himself, might just more than care for him in return. Only time and reflection would reveal this to Maria. Thankfully, the Reverend Mother was a very patient person.


	4. Chapter 4

"Herr Detweiler? There's a telephone call for you coming from Vienna," said Frau Schmidt, looking in on him and the children on the terrace.

"Oh, thank you, Frau Schmidt," said Max, getting up from his seat and turning then to the children. "Liesl, could you keep an eye on your brothers and sisters while I take this call?"

"Of course, Uncle Max," replied Liesl, and resumed the ball game she and the children were playing, somewhat unenthusiastically. Max gave them a sad look as he headed back into the house.

Once entering the house, Max could hear the sound of the grand piano being played with a passion from across the hall. Happy that his good friend was releasing his frustrations and heartbreak in a healthy way, the pieces Georg played – always in minor – were either full of anguish or unbearably sad. Even the children had soon lost their fascination and learned that their father was best left alone when at the piano. Even if the pieces didn't scare them, the expression on his face did.

Coming to the telephone, Max picked up the receiver and gave as cheerful a "hello" as he could.

"Hello, darling, it's Elsa!" came the familiar, smooth, aristocratic voice that to Max was very welcome at that moment.

"Ah, my dear, I am glad you've called," said Max, relieved.

"Why, Max? Is something wrong?"

"Everything that could be wrong is wrong," said Max, and proceeded to tell her all that had happened since the party had ended. By the time he'd finished his story, he'd had to wait a minute before Elsa finally spoke again.

"Oh, dear, no," she said. "You let Georg drink that stuff?"

"Don't blame me!" said Max defensively. "What were the odds that Maria would overhear that? And besides, he didn't drink nearly as much as I've seen him do in younger days."

"You're right, I'm sorry, it's not your fault. It's just . . . oh, this is the worst thing that could have happened! It is so obvious those two are in love.

"

"Elsa, when did you become so supportive of the two of them?" asked Max, needing to know this piece of the puzzle. "After all, you came to Salzburg with the clear goal of becoming his wife, confessing that to me more than once. And are you so sure that Maria reciprocates Georg's feelings?"

"Max, you didn't see them dance, I did. To them, the rest of the world had ceased to exist. They matched so well and moved so well together, and the way they were looking at each other only meant one thing: love. Poor Maria even blushed as red as a rose and backed away before either of them could kiss each other, it seemed. That moment was a profound one, Max, and put this entire situation into perfect clarity for me. And I'm glad it did. I know you wanted to see the two of us get married and 'keep all of that lovely money in the family,' but deep down we all know it wouldn't have worked."

Max was speechless for a moment, allowing this information to sink in. Knowing that she was right – and happy for her – he said, "Yes, you're absolutely right, Elsa."

"So, how is he? And the children?"

Max sighed. "The best you could say about the atmosphere here is 'tolerable.' I've promised Georg I would stay as long as he needed me, but even my comical genius and musical enthusiasm can't ignite the same spark in those young eyes as their governess had. Even in moments where they are almost happy, the absence of Maria is a presence itself."

There was a pause. "Am I hearing things, or is that music I hear from your end of the line?"

Max chuckled hollowly. "Oh, no, you're not mad. That is the sound of our dear Captain battling his demons. Since he can no longer drink heavy liquor or run away in good conscience, music is his only solace apart from the children. I'm glad he's at the piano again, it's healthy, and the best therapy he can get now."

"Well . . . I can't say I'm happy, this whole situation is incredibly sad. I have a feeling, though, that Maria and the family will see each other again . . ."

"As much as I love your hunches and hope they come true, darling, it certainly doesn't look that way now."

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see then."

* * *

><p>The seven Von Trapp children all sat under their favorite tree on the property in a somber circle.<p>

"What do you want to do?" asked Frederich to no one in particular.

"I don't know, what do you want to do?" Kurt threw back.

"I don't know –"

"Please, let's not start that," said Liesl, normally of a peaceful temper, but everyone had been out-of-sorts for four days now, and with good reason. A very frustrated Louisa, who had been slowly tearing apart a blade of grass, threw its remnants into the center of the circle with the exclamation, "Oh, I hate this!"

"Hate what?" asked Gretl.

"_This! _ Everything! I miss Fraulein Maria."

"We all do, Lou," said Liesl sadly. "But what can we do? She's chosen her path in life, and as much as we hoped for . . . it just didn't happen."

"I still think they love each other," said Brigitta adamently. "Have you noticed that if ever Father says her name, he says it like it's the most beautiful name in the world and he gets a funny look in his eyes?"

"Then why did she leave?" asked Louisa with exasperation.

"Perhaps she doesn't know it yet," reasoned Brigitta.

"Or she's in denial," said Liesl thoughtfully. "I mean, she wants to be a nun. Falling in love with a man is not part of that package."

"I feel . . ." began Kurt thoughtfullly.

"Hungry?" prompted Frederich, and the smallest of chuckles flitted through the circle.

"Ha ha," replied Kurt dryly. "No. I meant I feel like we should try and get her back."

"You heard Father as well as I did, Kurt," said Liesl. "We have to respect her decision."

"I don't mean coming right out and asking her to come back, I mean . . . what are the words I'm looking for?"

"Actions speak louder than words?" said Brigitta, getting a spark in her eyes.

"What does that mean?" asked Marta.

Now Louisa caught the spark too. "In this case, I think what he means is to tell her without words that we want her back, am I right?"

"Yes! Any way we can get her back!" said Marta with feeling, holding her doll tightly to her. That doll was like a security blanket to shy Marta, but being with Fraulein Maria made it unnecessary to hold it at all times. Her governess never made her feel shy, and was always encouraging her to be brave. With her gone, the doll never left Marta's arms now. "We can draw her pictures!"

"Marta, that's your solution for everything," said Frederich, but Brigitta suddenly looked excited and inspired.

"Yes! We can draw her pictures! I have the best idea! Liesl, where is the family picture that was taken two weeks ago?"

"In my room, why?"

"Let's go, everyone! I have the perfect idea!" With that, she rose and took Marta's hand, pulling her up. They led the way back to the house.

* * *

><p>Maria savored each breath she took as she walked up the familiar hills of her mountain. It really had been too long; the last time she'd been here had been with the children, but it seemed like forever since she'd been here alone. Her hurting heart already felt a lot better just being home. <em>Home.<em> Yes, she could always know and call this place home.

And as she came over the crest of a hill, Maria saw something that made it even more like home, something that was completely unexpected.

She gasped and brought her hands to her mouth, squinting to make sure she wasn't seeing things. No, it must be! But he wasn't supposed to be in Salzburg now! What in the world was he doing here, at their home so soon? Whatever the reason, it was most welcome and heartwarming.

Thankfully, the person she was now looking at had now spotted her and recognized her as well. His normally quiet voice exclaimed loud and clear: " 'RIA!"

It was him! Maria gave an exclamation of pure, relieved joy and ran full speed towards him at the sound of her special nickname. At one point, she almost tripped over her own feet but that sure didn't stop her. He was running towards her too. They collided, arms wrapping tight around each other. Maria felt his abundant brown curls with her hand, making sure her brother was real. In practically no time, she started to cry into his shoulder, just repeating his name in gratitude: "Dominik . . . Thank God, Dominik . . ."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_:D :D :D Oh, how I've missed him, I just couldn't resist, and the best part is that he's not sick in this one! To those who haven't read my previous stories you might want to read "That Something Good She Must Have Done" now._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **_ With more free time, my story is flowing! Glad to see you all missed Dominik as much as I did! As I said in my last author's note, if you haven't read my first story, "That Something Good She Must Have Done," you should read it to learn more about him. The only two changes I've made are these: he's not sick or dying, and they keep in touch by letters regularly. Enjoy and please review!_

* * *

><p>The seven Von Trapp children made their way down the streets of Salzburg hand-in-hand, in search of Nonberg Abbey.<p>

"Are you sure this is the right street?" asked Kurt.

"Positive," said Liesl. "Don't you remember that first week with Fraulein Maria? She took us to the Abbey and showed it to us, even though we couldn't go inside."

They continued to walk down the street until the Abbey loomed up on their left.

"This is it, remember?" said Brigitta, who carried a brown-paper package tied with string under her left arm and holding Gretl's hand with the other. Yesterday, after Brigitta had told her siblings the idea she had, they had pursued it with a gusto that was a relief to their father and Max – not since Maria had been there had they seen that kind of enthusiasm. Neither had any idea what they were up to, but the sounds of their talking and laughing was a welcome sound to the somber house.

The seven children stopped in front of the Abbey gates and peered through the iron bars. A few nuns walked past down the distant hallway, but none turned towards the gate. Looking to her right, Liesl noticed a rope snaking up to a bell. Guessing this was the doorbell, she reached out and rang the bell three times.

Sure enough, a nun who had been passing looked towards the gate and approached the children with a smile. "Yes, my children?" she inquired in a kind voice.

For a moment Liesl was shy, as were the other children. All had seen nuns before but had never spoken to one. "Um, my name is Liesl."

"Yes, Liesl?"

Gaining confidence in the sqeeze from Marta's hand in hers, she said, "We – my brothers and sisters – we want to see Fraulein Maria."

The kind nun looked confused for a moment. "Fraulein Maria?" Then recognition seemed to cross her face when she gasped. "Oh, Maria!"

All of the children smiled and nodded eagerly. The nun opened the gate for them to enter. "Come in, please."

The children followed the nun along the hallway into the Abbey itself. The children all looked around in curiosity as they walked and came into a larger hall. So this was where Fraulein Maria lived . . .

The nun turned around once they were all inside the hall and said, "Wait here," kindly. The children obeyed, eagerly watching her walk away. She was going to get their Fraulein! But before she could turn out of sight, another nun, more elderly with a big cross around her neck, intercepted her. They conversed for a moment, and the children saw this new elderly nun look at them. After nodding to the sister that had let them in, the elderly nun now approached them.

"Hello, I'm the Reverend Mother. You must be the Von Trapp children," she said in a rich, genuine and almost musical voice that was very kind.

"Yes, we are," said Liesl. "May we see Fra- I mean Maria?"

The Reverend Mother gave an apologetic but gentle look. "I'm very sorry, children, but Maria isn't here."

"Not here?" said Kurt, his eyes widening.

"But she has to be here, where else could she have gone?" said Louisa angrily, and a placating hand from Liesl kept her from lashing out.

"Don't worry, children, she's not gone forever," said the Reverend Mother calmly. "I let Maria take a few days for herself out of the Abbey. You only just missed her; she left early this morning. I'm not sure when she'll come back, but she's promised me she will."

The children stood there sad and disappointed, speechless for a few moments. "Well," said Brigitta, bravely stepping forward. "Will you please give this to her, from all of us?" She held out the package.

The Reverend Mother smiled and took the package. "Did she teach you 'My Favorite Things'?"

All of the children smiled and nodded. "On her first night," replied Louisa, who felt bad for nearly snapping at the Reverend Mother. "There was a thunderstorm and we had all run to her room because we were frightened."

"Even the boys," said Marta, with a giggle.

"I told you, it was just to be sure that _you _weren't," said Frederich, embarrassed.

"_Sure,"_ said Louisa and the children laughed.

"How did you know about that song?" asked Brigitta curiously.

The Reverend Mother was still smiling. "I can't tell you how many times we have heard her humming it and singing it. She never can seem to stop singing, wherever she is."

"That's Fraulein Maria!" perked up Gretl, smiling.

The Reverend Mother looked at these seven children and could see why Maria loved them so much, and why they loved her. "I will give this to Maria myself when she comes back, and will tell her you came. Thank you for coming to visit."

"Thank you, Reverend Mother," said Liesl politely, and the children turned around to walk out of the Abbey, disappointed but hopeful.

* * *

><p>Up in a familiar tree, a brother and sister sat on the high sturdy branches, close to each other after months of separation.<p>

"What in the world are you doing here, Dom?" asked Maria, again ruffling his curls again, making sure he was real. At this point, his presence seemed sent from heaven. "You aren't supposed to come to Salzburg until August."

"Well, an engagement I had in Tirol fell through so I thought I would come here to see you," replied Dominik in his quiet, rich voice.

"Well, why didn't you write me, then?" asked Maria.

"I was going to the Abbey to ask the address of where you were staying when I saw you coming over the hill. I wanted to surprise you."

"You certainly managed to do that," laughed Maria. "And Dom, it couldn't have come at a better time."

The seriousness of her last statement immediately caught his attention. Carefully, he moved to sit beside her on her branch. He wrapped one arm around the trunk of the tree, and the other around Maria's shoulders. "So, you've got a story to tell, huh?"

Maria smiled sadly as she prepared to tell that long and complicated story. "The biggest one of my life so far. You know from my letters what I've been up to."

"Well, to an extent, 'Ria," said Dominik. "I haven't had a letter from you in weeks, not since the one where you wrote of your boss's reconciliation with his children and your near dismissal."

Maria involuntarily shivered at the mention of the man, even in that way. Instantly his face came before her eyes, as she'd last seen him. "I'm sorry about that, Dom, but after that . . . things have become so complicated. It's been hard, I won't deny it."

"That bad?"

"You have no idea."

And so Maria proceeded to tell him of everything that had happened, from the Captain's apology to the moment she had seen him again. This time, though, she left nothing out. True, she had been completely honest with the Reverend Mother, but she had always stopped herself when coming to the points in her story when she had felt unfamiliar feelings for the Captain. As a postulant speaking to her superior, she felt extremely guilty. But to Dominik, she gave everything. Also, this time she told the story, she was able to telling it calmly without getting too emotional. Perhaps because she had already told the story once before, or perhaps she always felt a bit calmer around her brother. His nature was more introverted where her's was extroverted, and a better listener had not been born yet.

When Maria had finished, she looked at him for a reaction. But she should have guessed that pensive Dominik would be lost in thought. He released her from his gentle grasp and clasped his chin and mouth, a gesture he always did when thinking hard.

"Well," he finally said slowly. "One thing is clear: you've committed no sin."

The Reverend Mother had said as much, and she finally believed it. "Then why do I feel like I have, Dom?"

Dominik seemed to hesitate before speaking, something he did often with other people but not often with Maria. "You may get mad if I tell you my thoughts."

"Dom, please just tell me," encouraged Maria. He was going to be brutally honest, she could tell, but at this point she wanted any explanation.

Dominik gave her a cautious look, his hazel eyes radiating compassion. "Perhaps you're not following the will of God."

Unsurprisingly, Maria first reaction was defensive anger. The most important thing she had learned at the Abbey had been to find out the will of God and do it whole-heartedly. "Dom, how could you say something like that? How could me being a nun _not _be the will of God?"

Dominik sighed. He'd expected this reaction. "Ria, have you ever considered the possibility that you becoming a nun is just what you want, as opposed to what God wants?"

Maria opened her mouth to retaliate, but no words came. The Reverend Mother's words from yesterday came back to her mind: _Being a nun is not the only way to show God that you love Him. _Finally, she sighed. Idly she gripped an upper branch as she spoke to her brother, searching for the right answer. "A month ago, if anyone had spoken that to me, I would have angrily and immediately denied that, sure it was wrong. But you, the Reverend Mother, and my own heart speak the truth, it seems. But Dom, I've wanted the life of a nun since we were children! I dreamt of nothing else for years, I felt so sure!"

Dominik patted her shoulder. "I know better than most how long you wanted that life. But you never told me all of the reasons why."

Maria shook her head. "There were reasons I could name and others that are either too difficult . . . or I didn't want to. The ones you know . . . the nuns were good people, good women, taking care of each other and people in need. Living with my uncle and how he was for so long . . . the Abbey seemed a paradise to me. It was a real . . . _community_, a real _home_, or it _could_ be a real home to me."

Dominik smiled. "That much I had guessed. But . . . have you ever considered the possibility that you've used the Abbey to . . . run away from things you were afraid of?" He said this as gently as he could, for he could see Maria becoming a little more emotional.

"I . . ." This idea was new to Maria, that she really had seen the Abbey not as a home, but as an escape . . . The fact rang true in her mind, and she felt terrible for it. A tear slid down her cheek. "You're right . . . That's what I've seen it as, thinking that's what a home is . . ." She looked at her brother. "What _is _a home, anyway, Dom? We sure didn't have homes with the families we had, at least after my parents died."

Dominik thought for a moment. "I've been told it's where the heart is."

"I wish I knew what that meant . . . my heart is so confused, it speaks to me but I don't understand it. Or my mind can't."

"Well," said Dominik, "the best I've been able to define the expression is by personal experience. For example, I always feel at home here." He motioned around him. "This mountain will always feel like home. Also, I always feel at home with you, my sister who knows me better than anybody."

They smiled at each other, and Maria planted a kiss on his forehead, which he returned. "I feel the same way about both. So from that, we can conclude that a true home is with places and people we love."

"Mmm-hmm, that's about right."

Maria gave a sigh and rested her weary head on his shoulder. "How long are you in town for, Dom?"

"Three more days before my next engagement," replied Dominik. "I managed to land an engagement in the Bristol Hotel tonight. Why don't you come and watch, 'Ria? We could get there now; they've given me some time to rehearse."

Maria smiled and hugged him. "Sounds perfect."


	6. Chapter 6

Georg paced in front of his children slowly, hands behind his back, while they stood by the lake, looking guilty. Their trip to the Abbey was a longer walk than they'd remembered, so they'd arrived home fifteen minutes late for dinner, to find their father waiting on the terrace for them. All they had told him was that they had gone for a walk by the lake. Clearly, he could see through that lie now.

"Now, it's not like my children to be secretive," he said, still pacing slowly. The pacing was familiar, but the tone of his voice was not. Where once he had been very stern and unforgiving, now he was almost teasing. But he was still their father, despite the new nature of their relationship.

"We're not being secretive, Father," said Louisa as earnestly and sweetly as she could, the latter being a bit difficult.

Georg cast her a glance, knowing she was not telling the truth. "Mmm-hmm, and it's not like my children to be late for dinner."

"We lost track of the time," said Frederick, and all of the children nodded and agreed too enthusiastically. And their father didn't buy it.

"All right, now who's going to be the first one to tell me the truth?" he said, the old sternness back in his voice. They flinched, but knew they deserved it for lying and being late. He began to single them out.

"Frederich?" He knew how much his oldest son wanted to follow in his footsteps, but Frederich just looked at his feet.

"Brigitta?" His most intelligent child avoided his eyes.

"Liesl?" he addressed his eldest child, who was in charge of the group when on their own. But she met her father's gaze unflinchingly, and Georg was struck by how much her face resembled Agathe's whenever his late wife had teased him. "Where do _you think_ we were, Father?"

"Hmm?" What was she up to? "Now –" He began, about to tell her not to be smart with him, but she just intensified that look; his daughter really wasn't a child anymore, and she wasn't afraid of him.

"Well, if you don't know, you must have some idea where _you think_ we were," she said in that same evasive tone.

Raising an eyebrow, Georg deliberated. Should he tell them what he thought, which would most likely be right? "Well," he began in that same teasing tone, pacing again. "This is a simple process of deduction, in my opinion. None of you have ever dallied with a walk around the lake – there is nothing too fascinating to keep all of you occupied. And judging by the way you are all breathing a little heavier than usual and look a little weary makes me think you walked quite a bit farther than you say . . . into town, perhaps?"

The children all looked down and shuffled their feet – a clear sign of guilt.

"Or to Nonberg Abbey?" He made eye contact with Liesl again, who braved his gaze. For a moment they just looked at each other, until Liesl's gaze finally faltered and she nodded as she looked down.

Georg sighed. "Is that true, children? You know how I feel about being dishonest."

All of the children nodded, not daring to meet his gaze. Georg sighed, and knelt in front of them. "You know, I would not have objected to you visiting her. Didn't I tell you just that the morning after she left?"

"Well, it's only been a five days, Father," said Liesl. "We were afraid you would say it was too soon."

Finally understanding the entire situation sadly, Georg sighed. Rising he motioned for them to follow him. "Let's sit down."

Right on the steps to the terrace Georg sat down, and the children all sat around him. "Listen to me, children. I know that losing Fraulein Maria is painful, like when we lost your mother. It's painful for all of us. After your mother died, I retreated into myself and treated you very unfairly. Am I right in saying that all you had to rely on is each other?"

The children exchanged glances, and they knew it was right, so they nodded.

"Children, please don't feel like you need to keep secrets from me. I know after your mother died I made it almost necessary for you to do so. What I did . . . how I treated you . . . I don't think I can ever forgive myself for that . . ."

As he spoke, all seven children stared in awe at their father. He'd never opened up like this to them. Their hearts overflowed with unlimited compassion. Little Marta, who sat next to her father, slipped her tiny hand into Georg's big one. He looked at her, and she said, "I love you, Father."

That was the closest to tears that the children had ever seen their father. Georg took his little daughter in his arms and gave her a long hug. Still holding Marta in his arms, Georg looked at his other children. "No more secrets, children, please, even if you're scared I may get angry. And even if I do, please know this: _nothing _can make me stop loving you or wanting to help you." He opened an arm to the rest of his children, and they all eagerly shared a group hug. Leisl murmured tearfully, "We forgive you, Father." The rest of the children all assented to that in similar murmurs. Georg smiled and gave a sigh of relief – perhaps now he could begin to forgive himself.

"And remember, my children," said Georg, looking each child in the eye. "Just because you lose someone, whether your mother or Fraulein Maria, it doesn't mean that they don't love you anymore." His heart hurt as he spoke, suddenly jealous of his children: they had Maria's love, and he didn't. But he didn't deserve it, so he tamped the emotion down.

His children smiled at him, and he managed to smile back. "Now, let's go have dinner, before it gets any colder."

"Good," said a relieved Kurt, and the Von Trapps shared a chuckle as they walked inside.

Once in the dining room, Gretl tugged on her father's hand. "Where is Uncle Max?"

"Oh, he won't be joining us tonight," replied Georg, remembering his last conversation with Max: He'd tried to convince Georg to go out for a drink and hear the piano played at the Bristol hotel that night.

* * *

><p>As Max Detweiler entered into the common room of the little Bristol Hotel, his heart seemed to smile in joy. This type of atmosphere suited him perfectly. People were sitting all around in comfortable chairs and sofas, enjoying a drink, cigarette and chat. The climate of the room was both warm and contentedly tired, as it is every weeknight evening. Music was coming from the baby grand piano at one end of the room; it was being played beautifully, in Max's opinion, though he wasn't familiar with the piece.<p>

Georg would probably know, though. If only he'd been able to persuade him to come with him tonight! If anybody needed a night out of the house, with music to boot, it would be his friend. But even a heartbroken Georg was still a stubborn one, and nothing could persuade him to come with Max. _Hopefully better luck next time_ thought Max. Georg would have to start living again eventually.

That piano player really was very good, so Max decided to introduce himself. Unlike Georg, Max was an extroverted personality and had no problem meeting new people, especially if they were talented. As he approached the piano, he noticed the player was a young man, early twenties, with pale skin and abundant dark brown curls. There was someone else at the piano, leaning against it, a woman –

Max stopped in his tracks; it was unmistakeable, he just couldn't believe it. Needing to know the answers, Max resumed his walk and stopped at the piano just as the young man finished playing. He clapped, announcing his presence.

Both turned to Max and the woman gasped, her eyes widening and her hands going to her mouth. The young man, noticing her reaction, immediately turned his gaze to her in confusion and concern.

"Herr Detweiler!" gasped Maria, for there was no doubt about it. "Oh my goodness!"

"My dear Fraulein!" said Max, genuinely happy to see her. Taking her by surprise, he stepped forward and kissed both of her cheeks. Pulling back, he noticed she was looking over his shoulders. "I just came by myself to hear some music. What in the world are you doing here?"

"I'm here to watch my brother play," replied Maria, sighing inwardly with relief and motioning towards the young man.

Now Max looked even more surprised, but should he have been? Not once had he ever heard Maria mention her past before the Abbey; anything was possible. "Dominik, this is Max Detweiler."

"Ah, nice to meet you," said her brother, smiling and they shook hands politely. "Ria's told me about you."

"Well, why don't we all sit down and catch up?" said Max, motioning to an empty table.

"Sure, my break's just started."

Half an hour later, Max found himself liking Dominik very much after learning more about him. He learned that, though the two young people referred to each other as brother and sister, they were not biologically related. Max got the full story of how Maria's mother had been seamstress to Dominik's mother, a wealthy but cold woman. Never wanting a child, she had given her baby to Maria's mother to nurse, along with her own newly-born daughter Maria. From that moment on, Dominik spent much more time with Maria's family than his own, even living with them until the death of Maria's parents of sickness when they were eight. That meant he had to move back home and Maria had to stay with her uncle. Both said the bare minimum after that – obviously an unhappy time – but he got the drift: life and love, not blood and birth, had made them family.

"Where did you learn to play so splendidly, may I ask?" addressed Max to Dominik. When the young man blushed, Maria rolled her eyes and said, "Yes, he _does _play splendidly doesn't he? There was a music teacher in our village, Stefan, extremely talented. Taught Dominik his whole life, and picked up my guitar lessons after my father died."

"Well, speaking of that, my break has ended," said Dominik, highly embarrassed by compliments. "Max, if you leave before my next one, it was a true pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, I'll be here for a while, I'll make sure to speak to you again," said Max merrily. The two men exchanged a grin and Dominik headed back to the piano. Maria smiled after Dominik, glad he had made a new friend.

Turning to Max as a new piece on the piano began, she took a deep breath, ready to ask the question she needed to ask. "So, Herr Detweiler –"

"Maria, I refuse to let you call me that, the name is Max," said Max kindly.

"Max," Maria repeated, smiling herself, but it soon faded. "So . . . how is everyone?"

Max looked at her not without compassion. But what else could he tell her but the truth? "Well, Maria, I won't deny that things are very gloomy at the house. Everyone misses you very much."

That statement, though not suprising, was no less heartbreaking. Maria bit her lip, noticing how he had not just said the children missed her . . . "Do you know why I . . ."

Max nodded. "I completely understand why, Maria, and you didn't do anything wrong. Believe me, when Georg said that . . . awful thing, I wanted to give him a good kick up the –"

"All right," said Maria, preventing him from finishing the sentence. "I'm just glad you understand and that you are not angry . . . Are the children?"

"Oh no, they miss you too much to be angry."

Maria hung her head. "And . . . how is he?"

"Drowning in regret."

Maria groaned. "I never wanted to hurt anybody . . ."

"It's all right, Maria," said Max, patting her hand. Feeling a change of subject was needed, he said. "You know, I was under the impressions that nuns took a vow of seclusion when entering the abbey, never leaving it again."

"Only some orders, and ours is one of them," replied Maria. "But I am still only a postulant, and the Reverend Mother gave me a few days to myself, to . . . figure some things out."

Max did not pry, but he did not attempt to wipe the curious look away from his face so she continued. He was a good man, and despite his personality traits and love of luxury, he was a loyal friend. "I'm feeling lost, Max . . . as I never have before . . . so lost I don't even know if my future is at the abbey anymore . . . I feel like I'm adrift at sea I have no idea where the waves are taking me."

Max looked closely at this woman: young though she was there was something extraordinary about her. What she had just said . . . there might just be some hope for his friend yet. But it was not his place to tell her of Georg's true feelings, so he could say nothing else other than, "Well, you are an extraordinary young woman, my dear. Who else could turn the Von Trapp household upside down like that?"

Maria managed a small giggle, but her eyes were still far away.

Patting her hand again, Max continued, "Just remember, my dear, there are people who care about you immensely, both inside and outside the Abbey."

Maria smiled and nodded. Suddenly, she realized that Max, as Georg's friend, would probably tell him of their meeting. What surprised her more was that she didn't mind in the slightest. Impulsively she leaned forward a little and looked at him earnestly, "Tell him . . ." She wasn't even sure; nothing regarding him was sure in her mind anymore, so she decided to say the only close to sure thing she could think of. ". . . I'm not angry with him anymore."

Max gave a small smile. "I'll be sure to."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_I couldn't resist a mention of the Bristol Hotel. Christopher Plummer stayed there during the filming of "The Sound of Music" and played piano there every night. :)_

_Also, I feel bad that every character is easy to imagine except Dominik, because he's from my imagination and not the movie. But then one day, I saw a music video and I shouted "That's Dominik!" So, if you want to see what I think he looks and sounds like, go to Youtube, type in "Lee Mead" and watch the first video. _

_I love reviews!_


	7. Chapter 7

Georg couldn't deny that the fresh air sweeping over his head as he drove felt very good. Max had been right: he'd needed to get out of the house. He found himself almost wishing he had gone with Max the previous night to the Bristol Hotel, especially since someone had been playing piano. That was all Max had told him before he'd left, and he hadn't seen him since then. Well, he could certainly look forward to Max telling wonderful stories of a night out, all the while not-so-subtly implying that Georg should have been with him.

He rolled his eyes at the thought; there was nothing that Max could tell Georg that would convince him he should have been in a crowded hotel common area as opposed to the sanctuary of his study.

The sight of his destination made the smallest of smiles cross his face, even though he'd never been to this music shop before. It was small, just in the center of town, but it had been in Salzburg for as long as music was put on paper, it seemed, so Georg was sure he would find what he was looking for. Though he'd been playing the piano since his childhood, the four years away from the instrument had made their mark in his memory. It not only appalled him that he had forgotten so much Mendellshon, but what he had done with the music. On a particularly horrible night of remembrance nearly four years ago, in a drunken stupor, he'd thrown some of his sheet music into the fireplace and sent up the blazes. Like he'd vowed nearly a week ago, never again would he turn to alcohol to deal: it just made him do and say stupid things.

Walking into the music shop, a small bell above tinkled and the smell of aging parchment met his nose. It was lovely and refreshing. After inquiring from the shopkeeper where the piano sheet music was located, he proceeded to walk straight there. It was located right next to the guitars.

Another man was already browsing through the folios. He looked young, in his early twenties at most; his long pale fingers gracefully flipped each page back as he searched. Georg, too, commenced his search, but had no luck. There wasn't much of an organizational system, which was a little frustrating. Seeing that the shopkeeper was engaged with another customer at the moment, he turned to the young man beside him.

"You wouldn't happen to have seen anything by Mendellsohn, would you?" asked Georg politely.

The young man looked towards him in surprise, but immediately a pleasant polite expression came to his face. "Yes, you'd want to look further up this column. Werner, who owns the shop, prefers to sort the music by era as opposed to name."

"Oh," said Georg, and immediately looked where the young man was pointing. Sure enough, there was all of the Mendellsohn he could want. "That's a . . . new way to sort music, I suppose."

The young man shook his head. "I've always told Werner he should sort by name, so many customers get confused. But he's set in his ways, so I'm sorry about that."

"You have no need to apologize for him, you've been very helpful," said Georg. He liked this young man. Georg held out a hand for him to shake, "I'm Georg." Generally, when actually wanting to introduce himself to someone (which was a rarity), he hated to immediately introduce his status as a Captain; it could very well be intimidating. Today, he just wanted to be an ordinary man and music lover.

The young man shook the hand Georg offered with a smile. "Dominik. Nice to meet you."

He'd never seen this older, more refined looking man. Dominik could tell just from the way he carried himself that he came from the upper class. But knowing to ask would be making assumptions and quite rude, he resumed his own search for the nocturne he was looking for. He found Mendellsohn just a little too stuffy for his taste, so his new acquaintance

"You like Chopin?" asked Georg, as he pulled out what he'd been looking for.

Dominik looked up again and leafed through the music, making sure no pages were missing. "Yes, very much. The piano has always been the one instrument that I understand and know completely, and I think in terms of composition, Chopin comes to the forefrunt for me."

Georg nodded. "His music is very lovely."

"Yes," said Dominik. "My sister's favorite, as well. Whenever I come to Salzburg and see her, Chopin is the first thing she wants to hear me play, especially a nocturne she's particularly fond of. Unfortunately, I had forgotten my own copy in Innsbruck so I must find a replacement before I leave tomorrow."

"Oh, does your sister play as well?"

"Not the piano, no. Her instrument is the guitar," replied Dominik, motioning with his head to the nearby section.

"Ah," was all Georg said as his eyes turned to the guitars. They got a faraway look, as if he were recalling a fond memory, so Dominik decided to tactfully return to the task at hand. But soon, Georg was speaking again, whether to himself or Dominik he wasn't sure.

"I ought to buy some Mozart pieces while I'm here. I've been playing too many minor pieces and scaring my children away."

"Oh, you have children?" Dominik inquired with a smile.

"Yes, seven."

Dominik's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. He couldn't help but say, _"Seven children?"_ Did this mean that . . .

Georg laughed to himself. "Yes, I get that a lot," he said, taking Dominik's shocked reaction as only for the number.

But that was not the only reason. Maria's story rushed back into his mind, including the fact that there were seven Von Trapp children. How many families had seven children these days? He looked closely at Georg as the older man browsed through the Mozart section. He fit Maria's description to a T . . . Could this be . . . oh my goodness . . . But something stopped him from inquiring outright. No, he needed to find out in a more . . . subtle fashion.

"So, I'm glad that no pages are missing from this nocturne. I promised my sister I would play it in full before she has to return to the Abbey."

Dominik saw Georg's searching fingers stop right away, and then resume (shaking a little) as he inquired, feigning nonchalance. "Abbey?"

"Yes, Nonberg Abbey, she's a postulant there," said Dominik, looking at him carefully for a reaction again. Unfortunately, this Georg had a good poker face, but his eyes got some kind of spark of recognition in them.

"A postulant, you say?"

Dominik decided to give a final clue, needing to know if this was the man who haunted his sister. "Oh, yes. I remember us climbing a tree that stood next to the Abbey and listening to the sisters sing. Whenever they would sing "Ave Maria," my sister would get very excited and say, 'That's my name, that's my song!' Always adorable."

Georg gave himself away by having a little coughing fit, turning his head away and covering his mouth. _No doubt about it_ thought Dominik; this was Captain Von Trapp.

Now that he knew who he was, Dominik was not sure what to think or how to view this man. He seemed friendly and genuine enough to him, but this was also the same man who had caused Maria so much pain and confusion. But since this Captain didn't know he knew just who he was and what he had done to his sister, Dominik kept quiet.

"Well," said Georg, once he'd recovered and looked at Dominik again. "I hope she will be very happy."

Dominik had expected many things for him to say, but certainly not that. His tone was completely sincere and so was the look in his eyes. Dominik suddenly recalled Maria's description of when the Captain had said good-bye . . . something about all he wanted for her was to be happy . . . was it possible that this man felt more for his sister than he thought?

"Thank you, I will," replied Dominik, his voice slightly awestruck. "If there is one thing my sister has always wanted, it is to be all that God created her to be."

A fond smile spread across Georg's face. Then he nodded and hurriedly began browsing through the sheet music again, not looking for anything in particular. "Sounds like a young woman I once knew. She was the most . . . faithful, loving, spirited and lovely person I've ever known." He spoke more to himself than to Dominik as he gave the description.

Dominik's ears perked up, knowing full well that this man was talking about his sister, whether or not he knew it. Dominik was pretty sure he did. Doing the only safe thing he could do, Dominik merely nodded. He needed to tell all of this to Maria, and quickly.

So, he managed a small smile for the man and said, "Well, Georg, I must be going now. But it's very nice to have met you."

They shook hands again, and Georg smiled back. "Likewise, Dominik."

After a final nod and smile, Dominik made his way to Werner, behind the counter, made his purchase and quickly left the store without looking back.

He had to talk to his sister, and now.

* * *

><p>Maria spent the previous night on her mountain. Though Max wasn't sure it was a good idea, Dominik gave him reassurance as Maria walked out of the Bristol Hotel. The weather was warm, and Maria had spent many nights in the hills around the Untersberg, both with and without Dominik.<p>

She'd kissed Dominik good-bye with the promise that they would see each other again tomorrow. To Max she gave a friendly hug and a sincere wish for him to give the children all of her love.

The hills around her mountain were peaceful, and the Untersberg stood tall and strong like her guard of honor. She barely slept that night by choice; she had a lot to think about. The sky had fewer clouds than usual, and the moon – a few days after it had been full – gave Maria plenty of light to see. Sometimes she sat in a tree, but most of the time she walked, restless as she was. Maria talked to God in her heart that night, and slowly but surely, she began to understand.

Just before sunrise, Maria arrived back at the Abbey. Knowing full well that the gates to the Abbey would be closed, Maria came to the tree that she and Dominik would often sit in to look out into the Abbey garden. Fortunately, the branches were large and strong enough to help her get onto the the top of the wall, and she was able to climb down into the garden with the help of the ivy crawling up the wall. Quietly and without anybody seeing her, Maria managed to come back to her tiny little room.

Breathing deeply, Maria changed from her ordinary postulants dress and apron into her more formal, black woolen one. Also, she clasped her wimple back on her head again. She stood still for a moment, and took in the sensations she felt. For the first time, the entire outfit felt confining and stifling to Maria; of course it was always a little uncomfortable, but now she really felt it: She didn't belong in it.

Sighing, Maria picked up her pearl rosary – the last heirloom left of her mother – from the bedside table and made her way to the door. Morning prayer started at sunrise, and she could be on time for once. But as she opened the door, Maria noticed that there was something on her bed that hadn't been there when she'd left the previous day: a brown-paper package tied with strings. Her heart reflexively inflated with joy at the sight of one of her favorite things, but then she heard the sounds of the other sisters singing on their way to the church for prayer. Deciding to see what the package contained later, Maria left her room and made her way towards the singing.

But she soon found herself not at the doors to the church but the chapel, a room not used for morning prayers. A room that was small and intimate, full of lit candles and a stained-glass window facing east. Also, the beautiful statue of the Blessed Mother holding her infant Son. Feeling her heart being drawn into the room, Maria forgot about the morning prayers and went into the chapel, shutting the door securely behind her.

Looking at the beautiful statue with the stained glass window behind it, Maria knelt down before it almost involuntarily. Tears seemed to come from her eyes from nowhere. Also from nowhere, a song came into her heart and out of her mouth, to the Mother and her Son:

_I thought I did what's right_

_I thought I had the answers_

_I thought I chose the surest road_

_But that road brought me here._

Maria thought of the girl she'd been when she'd first come to the convent; this was nowhere near where she thought she would be, in this state of mind. That girl she'd been and the girl she felt she was now felt worlds apart. One had been so sure, and another wasn't sure of anything. She'd tried to get that certainty back in every way she could.

_So I put up a fight_

_And told you how to help me_

_Now just when I have given up,_

_The truth is coming clear._

The first morning light began to come through the stain-glass window as Maria acknowledged the truth out loud for the first time, staring at the face of her beautiful Mother and Savior.

_You know better than I_

_You know the way_

_I've let go the need to know why_

_For You know better than I._

Maria thought back to her time at the Von Trapp villa, and all of the new things she had been introduced to, both wonderful and frightening.

_If this has been a test_

_I cannot see the reason_

_But maybe knowing I don't know_

_Is part of getting through._

A test – that's what she'd first thought when she'd first started to feel unfamiliar feelings for her employer, and first started to have doubts about being a nun. But then Maria realized something: even through all of that, her faith had never wavered. Never once had she doubted that God loved her, and was always with her.

_I try to do what's best_

_And faith has made it easy_

_To see the best thing I can do_

_Is put my trust in You_

_For You know better than I_

_You know the way_

_I've let go the need to know why_

_For You know better than I_

This revelation led to another: ever since making the decision to become a nun, she'd narrowed her perspective, completely disregarding any other possibility of a happy life outside the convent. God did not want eyes half-closed but wide open! She'd believed so much that being a nun was the will of God, when it wasn't: she'd put her own desires before God's. She'd been so blind, but now she'd make it right. And to do that, she would need His help now more than ever before.

_I saw one cloud and thought it was the sky_

_I saw a bird and thought that I could follow_

_But it was You who taught that bird to fly_

_If I let You reach me, will You teach me?_

_For You know better than I _

_You know the way_

_I've let go the need to know why_

_I'll take what answers you supply_

_You know better than I._

The song ended, and Maria had tears on her cheeks. Tears of relief, tears of a new beginning, as the full light of the sunrise came in through the lovely window, filling the room with color and light. A new dawn and a new beginning. Smiling slightly, finally accepting her fate, Maria raised her right hand and took off her wimple.

She was a postulant no more.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_The song I used is called "Better Than I" from the animated movie "Joseph, King of Dreams," a truly lovely song that I thought fit Maria's situation perfectly._

_I love reviews!_


	8. Chapter 8

When Georg came back to the house in the late hours of that morning, the children were in the schoolroom, having their study hour before lunch. Making his way to the music room, he came across Max coming down the stairs.

"Morning, Max," said Georg off-handedly, not stopping in his walk; his mind was too full of his trip to the music shop.

"Georg?" he heard Max call in a somewhat urgent tone, making him stop in his tracks and turn around. He was surprised to see his friend had a somewhat . . . anxious look on his face.

"Max, what is it?"

"Could I speak to you for a moment?" asked Max, gesturing to Georg's study.

Not really knowing what to expect, Georg nodded and the two men came into the study and sat down comfortably.

"So, Max, did you have a nice evening yesterday? I'm not really in the mood to hear your oh-so-subtle implications that I really should have went with you. Just going to the music shop just now made me realize how much I miss the piano pieces I love."

"Oh, you went to the music store?" inquired Max with enthusiasm, delaying what he would inevitably have to tell Georg. He was unsure of what his friend's reaction would be; at any rate, he was grateful there was no longer any hard liquor in the room.

"Yes," replied Georg, and his eyes got a far-away look. "It was so strange, though, Max. I met a young man in the shop briefly. His name was Dominik."

Max's eyes widened. "Did he look young and have dark curly hair?"

Now Georg's own eyes widened. "As a matter of fact, yes. Do you know him?"

"I met him last night. He was the one playing piano at the Bristol."

"Oh," said Georg, nodding. "He was, was he? Well, that makes sense."

"Yes," said Max. "So, um, what did you two talk about that made your visit so strange?"

"Well, he mentioned his sister several times, and each time he did, it sounded as if he were describing . . ." Georg's voice drifted for a moment, then shook his head. "Too many perfect coincidences in his descriptions to make me at ease. She plays guitar, is a postulant at Nonberg Abbey, and loves the song 'Ave Maria' because it has her name in it." His gaze turned to Max again. "How could he _not _be talking about _her_?"

Max's lips tightened and his eyes widened just a touch. Taking a deep breath, he asked. "Did he know exactly who _you _were?"

Georg thought back to the conversation and shook his head slowly. "No, I only gave him my first name. The only other facts about me he knows are that I play the piano and I have seven children. Besides that, I'm not even sure that he's seen . . . his sister yet or not, that wasn't entirely clear, the way he spoke of her."

Max gave a very deep sigh, knowing he now had to tell Georg the truth and possibly add one more regret onto his already mountain-sized pile. "I'm afraid . . . it is very likely he knew _exactly _who you were . . . because his sister is exactly who you think she is."

Georg seemed to freeze while looking at Max, but his eyes burned. When he finally spoke, he spoke very softly, "Max, what the hell are you talking about?"

Max forced himself not to sigh again, and braved Georg's gaze as he replied in a resigned voice. "She's the one who introduced me to Dominik last night, Georg. I'm sorry."

Georg's eyes burned even more if that was possible. To Max's relief, that burning gaze shifted to a corner of the coffee table. "She was there . . . I could have . . ." Suddenly he rose and began to pace restlessly as he exclaimed. "_Goddamnit! Why can't I do one thing right?"_

"Georg, how could you have possibly known?" asked Max in a calm voice he hadn't known he could have. Knowing that Georg needed to keep moving to keep his sanity, Max himself got up and said, "Let's walk."

Thankfully, Georg made no objection and the two men walked quickly outside and strolled through the gardens.

"Tell me everything, Max," said Georg in a quiet desperation. "How was she? How did she seem?"

"Well, I could see she had some of her natural glow again, because of her brother. It was very easy to see she adores him, and how proud of him she is. It was a surprise to see her, and a relief to find her original energy back."

Georg looked as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Oh, Max, you can't know how wonderful that is to hear. Did you know I'd had a letter from the Reverend Mother a few days ago, telling me that Maria had secluded herself in the Abbey and refused meals?"

"No!" gasped Max. "Well, that's passed now, most likely thanks to her brother. Thank goodness he had come to Salzburg."

"Yes," said Georg, and then a thought struck him. "Do you think, Max, by the time you met him, Maria had told him about what had happened . . . here?"

"Undoubtedly," replied Max.

"Then he knew when he met me! Those hints about her that he gave me . . . he knew exactly who I was and what he was doing!" For a moment Georg felt annoyed, almost offended.

"Georg," said Max placatingly. "If you came in contact with the man who had spoken in such a way to your own sister, what would you have done?"

That made Georg finally stop in his tracks as he considered this ashamed. He sighed. "I would have done much worse, come to think of it . . . no, I can't blame him at all."

"He's a good man, Georg, and he loves his sister as much as she loves him," said Max, and Georg nodded.

"Yes, I liked him right away when I met him."

"Good." Max paused in his speech for a moment as they resumed their walk. "While Dominik played the piano, I had a chance to talk to her."

"And?"

Max almost had to laugh; his curiosity was almost rude, but considering the situation, he didn't blame Georg at all. "She asked how the children were, and how you were."

_She asked about me_, Georg thought. Just that alone gave his heart a leap. Even if she'd only asked to be polite, it elated him a little. Max noticed and continued. "I answered as honestly as I could without making her feel terrible, and she ended up disclosing something to me about how she was doing." Max stopped in his walk and looked at Georg. "She told me she'd been feeling very lost, so lost that she wasn't sure her future was at the Abbey anymore."

Georg's eyes widened, and without warning, put his hands on Max's shoulders. "She said that? She _really _said that?"

"Mm-hm," said Max. "And I could tell she meant it. Poor thing, even with her natural glow back, being with her brother, I can tell she's had some sleepless nights." Max put his own hands on Georg's shoulders now. "She asked me to tell you something."

Nothing could have diverted Georg's attention now. "What?"

"That she wans't angry with you anymore."

Georg seemed to be in a daze after hearing this. Max really was telling the truth. He backed away from Max and turned around, his head spinning and his heart rejoicing at what he'd heard. Not only was Maria doing better, but there might just be a ray of hope in this whole situation.

Deciding to take a risk, Georg turned back to Max, gave him heartfelt gratitude, and walked determinedly back to his study.

He had a letter to write.

* * *

><p>Dominik sat at an outdoor table of the café near the Mirabell Gardens, his right heel beating the ground at a rapid rate. How on Earth was he going to tell Maria what had just happened? What would her reaction be like? And had she come to any decisions last night? She usually made big decisions on their mountain.<p>

As the church bells rang announcing midday, Dominik saw Maria quickly hurrying down the street towards him, with what looked like a package under her arm. She wore a truly horrible dress made of a coarse grey material, along with a short khaki jacket. But he hid his wince at the sight of her face. She looked . . . different somehow. In a good way.

"Hello!" she said merrily upon reaching him, dropping the package on the table and wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a hug.

"Well, hello," replied Dominik, hugging her back. Pulling away, he saw this new light in her face, a relaxation and contentment he hadn't seen before. "What's happened to produce a new glow in your eyes?"

Maria laughed and they sat down at the café table, and told him about her night on their mountain and how she had come back to the Abbey. ". . . Sitting in that chapel, as the morning sun came in, I just knew. Everyone else, even my own heart and God, had been telling me for a long time but not until now did I finally accept it and believe it . . . I'm not meant to be a nun, Dom. I never was and I never will be. There's a mountain-tall list of reasons why, but the biggest is that . . . like you said, it wasn't God's will."

Dominik smiled gently and squeezed her hand across the table. "Are _you _all right? It was your will to be one."

Maria gave a deep sigh. "I think I am, becoming more sure the more I think about it. You know, on my mountain last night, I realized that after I would have taken my vows, I'd never be able to come there again . . . Just about broke my heart. There are so many things that I want and love that I can't believe I would have to give up. Is that selfish?"

"No, Maria," said Dominik firmly. "Not every girl is meant to be a nun." Looking at what she had brought with her, he inquired, "Why did you bring one of your favorite things?"

Maria chuckled and stroked the package. "I haven't opened it yet," she murmured. "I can only guess who sent it."

Dominik returned the smile. "Well, what are you waiting for? Max told you they weren't mad at you, didn't they? So you know they didn't put frogs and snakes in there."

She laughed again, and gingerly untied the string. She then proceeded to carefully unwrap the brown paper. There was a box, a plain blue box, and Maria opened it while holding her breath. Lifting the lid, she let out her breath in a gasp. Dominik peaked in.

There lay a stack of colored pictures and drawings, all lovingly done by the Von Trapp children – each had signed their name in the bottom right-hand corner. Pulling each out, the brother and sister realized that each drawing was one of Maria's favorite things. They had fun laughing – Maria even shedding a happy tear – looking at the drawing. If the names had not been there, Maria still would have known each child's artwork. From Gretl's elementary globs to Liesl's neat and symmetrical lines, each told worlds of their personalities. Oh, how she missed them now! She wanted not only to kiss each picture but kiss each child in thanks.

"Oh, those little dears!" she said to Dominik, who was looking closely at two pictures with an awed expression on his face. "What is it?"

Dominik wordlessly passed the two to her, one stacked on another. Maria now truly gasped in surprise at what she saw. On top of the pile was, not a hand-drawn colored picture, but a recent photograph. It had been taken just before the puppet show on the back terrace: all seven children in a line, and their father and Maria next to them, staring at them lovingly. Underneath the photograph was a picture copy that all seven children had contributed to. Looking at them both, Maria became overwhelmed. Through this photograph and the picture copy, the children were telling her that she was part of their family.

"Ria," said Dominik, interrupting her from almost crying. "Do you notice any differences between the photograph and their drawing?"

Perplexed, Maria looked at them both again quickly. "No, I don't think so. Why?"

"Look at you and the Captain, specifically in each."

Suddenly a little nervous, Maria looked at the photograph. Each of them were staring at the children with pride and love, hands clasped behind backs casually. Nothing strange about that. Then her gaze shifted to the picture and she gasped. Why hadn't she noticed it before?

In the picture the children had drawn, she and the Captain were holding hands.

"Oh my . . ." Maria stared at the two joined and drawn hands, and memories came back to her mind: taking the Captain's extended hand, accepting his invitation to dance; his tender care as he'd treated her burned hand, and how he'd held it tenderly between both of his and spoken her name . . . Maria looked down at the gauze she had yet to remove.

"Maria, are you all right?" asked Dominik, concerned with how long she was keeping quiet.

Maria looked at him and tried to gather her thoughts. As she did, a small breeze hit her face and she felt a sensation that had been new to her for a week now. "You know, Dominik, that when I said good-bye to him . . . he kissed my forehead. Ever since then, when I've felt the wind on my face or I remember him, it seems like I can feel that kiss again . . . it left some kind of invisible, sensitive mark. Why is that?"

Dominik gave her a small smile. "You feel something for him, that's why. He's left a mark on your heart."

The clarity of the statement nearly brought Maria to tears. "That's the best way you could describe it, Dom."

Now Dominik was the one who sighed. "There's something else I need to tell you, Maria. Just this morning, I went to the music shop to get that Chopin nocturne you like so much. While there, I met a man who seemed to love piano music as much as me."

"Oh, that's nice," said Maria pleasantly, not really knowing why Dominik was mentioning it.

Dominik pointed to the photograph. "That's the man I met."

Maria froze and her eyes widened. Finally, she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "Dom, you met him! Oh goodness! Are – are you sure?"

"Well, he didn't give me his last name, only his first: Georg. He also mentioned he had seven children."

There was no doubt. "That's him, Dom," she said breathlessly. "What did you talk about? How did he look?"

Dominik shrugged. "One could tell he was from the upper class. And . . . please don't get mad, Ria, but to find out if this was that very man, I mentioned the fact that I had a sister who was a postulant at Nonberg Abbey and also played guitar."

Maria's jaw set and her eyes widened even further. "How could you tell him you knew me and torture him like that?"

Dominik almost leaned back in shock at how quick she was to defend him. Clearly, she cared for this man more than she thought. "Don't worry, he didn't know I knew who he was, and I didn't mention I had seen you yet. I wanted to find out how he felt for you, and if he regretted how he's spoken of you. What else would you expect a brother to do?"

Maria calmed down a bit. She was both touched at that admission from Dominik but also very curious to know what the Captain had said. "So . . . what did he say?"

Dominik gave a small smile again. "He said he hoped that my sister would be very happy in her life."

Her mind reflected back to that night they'd parted, how he'd said the same thing with such earnestness.

"He also said that not so long ago he'd known a woman who sounded like my sister. Said that she had been the most faithful, loving, spirited and lovely person he'd ever known."

Maria's heart seemed to swell as she listened to this. Dominik wouldn't lie to her, and the Captain wouldn't have said those things unless he meant it. Suddenly, she knew what she needed to do.

"Dominik, can we meet later this afternoon? I need to talk with the Reverend Mother."


	9. Chapter 9

In her office, the Reverend Mother finished signing the necessary papers. After taking off her glasses, she looked upwards at the two women standing before her desk. Addressing the older of the two, she said, "Sister Augusta, please take our new postulant to the robing room." She then turned her gaze on the young woman beside her, in a pretty green-print travelling dress. "God bless you, my daughter," she said sincerely.

Both women smiled and headed out through a side entrance into the office that led to the robing room. Immediately after, a knock was heard at the main entrance. "Ave," called the Reverend Mother, not remembering any appointments for this time.

The sight of Maria timidly opening the door was unexpected, but very pleasing. "Come here, my child."

As Maria came closer, the Reverend Mother looked her over. She definitely looked better than she had the last time they had talked; she seemed more at peace in her own skin. But there were questions in her eyes that needed to be asked. She also noticed that Maria was not dressed in her postulant garb, but rather that gray dress she'd had to take with her to the Von Trapp house. Deciding to let Maria explain all in good time, the Reverend Mother rose from her desk with a smile.

After Maria had knelt and kissed the Reverend Mother's hand, the two women took their seats facing each other, the desk between each other. "Well, Maria, I'm glad to see you back. I hope your time away has been helpful."

"Yes, Reverend Mother," replied Maria. "It has done me worlds of good."

"I am very glad to hear that."

Maria gave a grateful smile. "I can't thank you enough for giving me that time to myself, Reverend Mother. I was even able to see my brother, who came to town to surprise me."

"That's wonderful, my dear! How is he?" The Reverend Mother had met Dominik on several occasions, both when he and Maria had been children, come to mass, or when he had come to visit his sister.

"Oh, he's wonderful, travelling from town to town to play his music," said Maria. "Living a life that makes him happy . . ." Her voice drifted after she's said that, realizing the truth of that fact for the first time. Maybe now she had a chance to do the same. Looking at the Reverend Mother again, Maria spoke again. "Being with him, going back to my mountain, and time to pray have made me realize a few things, Reverend Mother."

"Tell me, my child," prompted the Reverend Mother gently.

Taking a deep breath, Maria began. "You were right. Dominik was right. In fact, I'm the last person to admit the truth. And the truth is, Reverend Mother . . . as much as I love you and the sisters, I'm not meant to be a nun."

As the Reverend Mother listened, a satisfaction came over her. She had known from the moment she had met this spirited young woman was not meant for the secluded life of the sisters. But that was a discovery that Maria had needed to make for herself. And she had.

The Reverend Mother nodded gently. "I see. Well, my daughter, do you truly feel this is the will of God."

"Yes," replied Maria, with certainty.

"And are you at peace with that?"

Maria gave a small smile. "It took me a while, but I am. I really am. I just wish I'd realized it sooner."

"The Lord shows us everything in His own good time, Maria," said the Reverend Mother. After a moment's pause, she asked. "So, my daughter, where shall you go now? Do you know yet?"

Maria bit her lip and looked at her lap before answering, as though she were embarrassed by the answer. "Well, I only know where I would _like _to go. At least until the end of the summer."

The Reverend Mother smiled. "You wish to return to the Von Trapp home."

_Home . . . _Yes, she wanted that. "I received a package from the children. They'd drawn me pictures of my favorite things, and also sent me a photograph of the family, including me."

The smile on the Reverend Mother's face widened. "Ah, so _that's _what they made for you. All seven of them came to the Abbey yesterday, hoping to see you."

"Oh, really?" Maria asked, her eyes widening and her heart aching that she had missed them. "Those little dears . . . how I wish I'd have been here!"

"Well, by the nature of their visit and what they've given you, it seems clear that you would be welcomed back with open arms."

"Yes . . ." Her voice drifted again, and so did her gaze. The Reverend Mother could tell that they had now come to the crux of Maria's struggle to go back, the only thing that was holding her back.

"What is it you're afraid to face, Maria?" asked the Reverend Mother, knowing what the answer would be but needing Maria to say it.

Maria sighed. "I don't know if I can face him again," she said softly.

The Reverend Mother nodded. "There is something I need to tell you, Maria. When you came back so suddenly and with no explanation, I wrote to Captain Von Trapp, asking what had happened."

Maria looked at the Reverend Mother sharply. "You did?"

"Mm-hm," nodded the Reverend Mother, pulling a piece of paper out of a drawer and handing it to her. "This was his reply."

With slightly trembling fingers, Maria took the letter the Reverend Mother offered her and read it. The writing fit him: masculine yet elegant. Each word seemed to reach her heart like a tender caress; she could practically feel the regret radiating from the ink. She shook her head in frustration and put the letter back on the desk.

"What is it, my child?" the Reverend Mother asked.

Maria tried her best to find the right words. "After what I heard him say, I should hate him, never want to go near him again. Instead, I find myself completely understanding and forgiving him . . . and wanting to see him again. Oh, Reverend Mother, is that wrong?"

"No, my daughter," said the Reverend Mother. "That is being compassionate, what our Savior would have wanted us to feel in these situations, instead of fear and hate."

Maria stood up from the desk and turned towards the lovely crucifix shrine in the office. "Do you think it's a good idea, Reverend Mother? To go back? I've forgiven him, but . . . I don't know if I trust him . . ." _Or myself._

The Reverend Mother stood up and slowly walked over to her. "You must find that out for yourself, Maria. Do you believe, if you go back, that the Captain will do what he threatened to do in a drunken frustration."

Maria turned to her rapidly. "No, of course not! If I thought he would, I would never, _ever_ consider going back, even for the sake of the children."

"Then what are you afraid of, my child?"

Maria looked at the crucifix again. "Feelings . . ." she barely whispered. "What he feels and . . . what I feel . . . I can't define it, I can't understand something I've never known and never expected to know. I'm afraid that, if I go back, I will be swept away into something unknown, fast and . . . terrifying, and I won't be able to stop it."

"You must be brave, my daughter," said the Reverend Mother, placing a gentle hand on Maria's arm. "And you must trust not only yourself, but him and God. Our Lord has not abandoned you and never will. You must trust that He will take care of you, that both will."

Maria heard those words and knew they were right, but she was still afraid and insecure. She hung her head. "Maybe I should just . . . stay here until I decide what I'm to do –"

"Maria," said the Reverend Mother, moving towards the golden stained-glass window. "These walls were not built to shut out problems – you have to face them." She turned back to Maria, who was now looking at her, with eyes begging for an answer. The Reverend Mother leaned forward slightly, emphasizing her words.

"You have to live the life you were born to live."

Maria's eyes were starting to fill with tears, as courage came to her from the Reverend Mother's words.

The older woman, who had experienced so much and had never given up on God, turned again to the window, and began to sing:

_Climb ev'ry mountain_

_Search high and low_

_Follow every bi-way_

_Every path you know_

_Climb ev'ry mountain_

_Ford every stream_

_Follow every rainbow_

'_Til you find your dream_

_A dream that will need_

_All the love you can give_

_Every day of your life_

_For as long as you live_

_Climb ev'ry mountain_

_Ford every stream_

_Follow every rainbow_

'_Til you find your dream_

_A dream that will need_

_All the love you can give_

_Every day of your life_

_For as long as you live_

_Climb ev'ry mountain_

_Ford every stream_

_Follow every rainbow_

'_Til you find your dream_

As Maria listened, she came closer to the Reverend Mother, finally leaning against a pillar in the room as she listened. The confidence and faith in the Reverend Mother's song seeped into her heart, and she found her courage at last. She knew what she had to do now.

She had to go back.

* * *

><p>Later, Maria walked through the Abbey courtyard towards the main gate, her carpetbag in one hand and guitar case in the other. She was wearing, not the gray dress, but the green-print dress the new postulant had come in wearing. The gray dress was hers, since the poor did not want it. But before leaving, something had possessed her to ask the Reverend Mother for a new dress.<p>

Before going through the gate, she turned around to look back at the Abbey one last time. She heard the sisters' distant singing on the way to vespers. She would miss the sisters, even Sister Berthe and especially the Reverend Mother. But this was not where her future was. She would have to find that for herself.

"When the Lord closes a door . . . somewhere He opens a window," she murmured, just like she'd done the last time she'd left for the Von Trapp house. Her faith had never wavered then, and it didn't now despite her fear.

After slipping through the gate and shutting it behind her, Maria's eyes fell on her brother, whom she'd asked to wait for her.

Dominik smiled. "So you're going back?"

Maria nodded. "I'm going back."

Her brother took her carpetbag from her, and she linked her arm through his, silently asking for support. As they walked, Maria started to sing softly to him and herself:

_What will this day be like, I wonder?_

_What will my future be, I wonder?_

Dominik gave her an encouraging smile. Her life was now an open book, freer than it had ever been. No wonder she'd feel nervous. He sang back to her with enthusiasm:

_It could be so exciting,_

_To be out in the world, to be free!_

Maria shook her head and sang:

_My heart should be wildly rejoicing . . ._

She stopped in her tracks and looked at her brother.

_Oh, what's the matter with me?_

Dominik looked at Maria and squeezed her hand:

_You've always longed for adventure,_

_To do the things you've never dared_

_Now here you're facing adventure!_

Maria leaned her head against Dominik's shoulder, her voice small as a mouse's:

_Then why am I so scared?_

Dominik gave her a comforting hug, and a small smile crept across his face as he sang:

_A captain with seven children . . . what's so fearsome about that?_

In spite of herself, Maria laughed, and the brother and sister resumed their walk in comforting silence.

When they had reached the bus stop, Maria turned to him. "Thank you, Dominik, for everything. You've helped me so much, you have no idea."

Dominik smiled and handed her a slip of paper. "This is the address I'll be staying at. Write me, Maria, keep me informed. And if he does _anything _to make you uncomfortable or compromise your trust, he'll have to answer to myself and Max."

Maria nodded. Dominik kissed her forehead, and she kissed his back. "Wish me luck," she said as the bus pulled up.

"You'll be alright, Ria," he said, giving her a final squeeze of the hand before she boarded the bus with her luggage. He waved good-bye and stayed there until the bus was out of sight.

As the bus rolled down the country road, Maria looked out the window at the passing trees. But she didn't see them; _his_ face was in her mind.

"_Oh, help . . ."_ she murmured, and said a prayer for strength.


	10. Chapter 10

As Max drove down the dirt road back to the Von Trapp villa, all he could really look forward to was the wonderful dinner that Cook was bound to prepare for the family. Other than that, he knew he would see the heart-wrenchingly sad faces of the children and the dark raincloud that seemed to follow Georg everywhere now. His trip into town to meet with some musicians had been a welcome afternoon activity.

When he turned on the road, sending up a cloud of dust due to the sharpness of the curve, Max saw a distant figure walking down the right side of the road. He only took note of the figure when he came closer and started to look . . . familiar. It was a woman, wearing a pretty green travelling dress and carrying two suitcases. What was a woman doing walking and not driving?

Then Max saw that one of the luggage pieces was a guitar cases, and a ray of sunlight hit the young womans golden – and unusually short – hair. Making sure he was not seeing things, he stopped a short distance ahead of the woman and got out of the car.

Yes, he was not seeing mirages! The familiar young woman had stopped in her tracks when the car had stopped ahead of her, and she gave a happy smile when she saw Max coming out of the car! "Oh, Max! Now you've ruined my surprise!"

"My dear Maria!" said Max, coming forward to give her a happy kiss on each cheek. "Please tell me this means what I think it means1"

Maria smiled and nodded. "At least for the end of the summer, to finish my post as governess. I'm no longer a postulant, and I didn't know where else to go. That's all I am sure of, Max. There are things that my heart still needs to know, and the only way it will is if . . . I come back."

Max seemed to understand what was not spoken between the words._ Perhaps, then, it will be Georg who will need the chaperone and not the lady._ "I'm very glad to hear that, and just so you know, I won't be going anywhere. I like staying with rich people too much."

Maria gave a hearty laugh, which Max shared with her.

"Well, may I offer myself as chauffer back to the villa?" asked Max, in a mock posh accent.

"That would be _splendid,_" replied Maria in an equally silly tone. After sharing another laugh, Max helped Maria load her luggage into the car, and they set out down the road again.

As the car came closer to the house, Maria felt the nervousness welling up deep inside her again. What would he do when he saw her again? What would _she _do? And would she be able to stop herself? By the time she caught sight of the villa, as Max drove onto the circular driveway, she felt petrified. Max noticed after he'd stopped the car, and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "It will be all right, Maria. I know Georg very well, and I can guarantee you that he would never, _ever_ try to hurt you. Especially now that you're giving him a second chance."

Maria nodded, and felt her nerves calm somewhat, but not completely. "Where do you think everyone is?"

"Well, it's nearly suppertime, so if the children are not –" Max stopped when they heard several exclamations of play coming from around the house. Most likely Frederich and Louisa chasing each other. "Well, clearly they are taking advantage of this beautiful weather . . ." Max paused when a sudden inspiration hit him. A plan forming in his mind he turned to Maria and said, "I have an idea."

"What?"

Max whispered the plan in her ear, and she immediately agreed, so excited to see the children that she forgot about her nerves for seeing the Captain. "All right, I'll take my luggage and bring it around the back. What about the car?"

"I'll tell Franz to take care of it on my way back to the back terrace."

"Will the Captain be outside, too?" she asked, almost involuntarily.

Max smiled. "Well, if he's not watching them then he put Liesl in charge."

Maria nodded, and both got out of the car and proceeded with the plan.

* * *

><p>"Hello, my musical geniuses," greeted Max enthusiastically when he came out onto the terrace. The children were sprawled out on the grass, exhausted after a game of tag.<p>

"Hello, Uncle Max," they responded unenthusiastically. After their game and with their usual air of melancholy, they had no enthusiasm to give.

"Where is your father?" Max asked, in the same cheerful tone.  
>"Inside playing the piano," replied Brigitta, confused by her uncle's tone. "You seem very happy, Uncle Max."<p>

"Ah, you observant one, yes I am," said Max, approaching the children. "And in a few moments, you all will be too."

The children looked at him with doubtful, but curious, expressions. "Why?" asked Kurt.

"Well," said Max, stopping before them with a big smile on his face. "I've brought you children a present."

This perked up the children, the little ones instantly standing up. "Another puppet show?" asked Gretl.

Max laughed. "Oh, no, this is much better than that."

Now all of the children were curious. "What is it, Uncle Max?" asked Liesl.

"First, I would like to hear you all sing."

The children groaned. Singing had lost all of its magic and joy without Fraulein Maria. For the first time, they were beginning to understand something of what their father had gone through with the death of their mother: Music just made them miss Fraulein Maria more.

"Oh, do we have to?" said Frederich, not looking at all pleased.

"I'm afraid so, or I'm afraid you won't see your gift," said Max, still looking cheerful. "Come on, everyone up!"

Knowing he really wouldn't relent until they sang, the children got up with despondent looks on their faces. "What do you want us to sing?" grumbled Louisa, crossing her arms.

"Well, one thing is for sure," said Max, crossing his own arms. "I've never seen such gloomy faces. What do you sing to make you feel better?"

Now the children looked even more sad. "My Favorite Things," said Marta in a small voice. "Fraulein Maria taught it to us during a storm . . . because we were all scared."

Max noted the very sad voice of little Marta, and he almost just told them outright, but he stopped himself. "Perfect, then sing that!" With that, Max backed up to the terrace steps to give them some space.

Knowing it was the only way they would get their present, they all sighed. Liesl nudged Brigitta and they both began, slowly and without much heart:

_Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens_

The other girls joined in, just as sadly:

_Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens_

The boys joined in and all seven children sang the rest of the verse:

_Brown paper packages tied up with strings_

_These are a few of my favorite things_

Gretl gave a sad little sigh and asked to no one in particular, "Why don't I feel better?"

Liesl gave a sad smile and reached out her arms to give Gretl a hug. The children began to sing again:

_Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes_

_ Snowflakes that stay on . . ._

But that's as far as they got, for that's when they noticed an eighth voice was singing with them. Only one voice they knew was that beautiful. Their eyes widened and began to look frantically around, afraid they were hearing things.

Then Max saw their gaze turn to the north, and he smiled as all of the children exclaimed her name in joy and run towards her, exclaiming in joy. Smiling, he turned around and back into the house. Some moments were too precious to witness.

Remembering what Liesl had said, Max quickly – and with a bounce in his step – towards the music room. He could hear no playing, which was curious to him. Instead, he found Georg just sitting at the instrument, looking at a full envelope in his hand, as if contemplating what to do with it. He made his presence known by knocking on the door frame.

Georg looked up and immediately noticed Max's mysterious smile. "What are you up to, Max?"

"You might want to come out onto the terrace."

* * *

><p>Maria walked slowly around the back of the house, praying that Max's plan would work, and that the butterflies in her stomach would just calm down. Not only was she nervous to see the Captain, but excited as well. That scared her a little bit – all of these new feelings she had just begun to acknowledge.<p>

Thankfully, when she heard the children beginning to sing, her thoughts immediately turned to them. They were singing 'My Favorite Things,' but certainly not with the joy they used to sing it with. Her heart broke at the melancholy sound, but soon lifted again when she remembered she had the power to turn that sound from melancholy to joyous.

When she could see them, she joined in the song strongly and clearly. She saw them looking around at first all around, searching for her voice. Then they spotted her, and all heaven broke loose.

It took all of her power to keep singing as they shouted "Fraulein Maria! She's back!" A split second later, they were all rushing towards her. Maria ran towards them, her heart rejoicing at seeing those seven children whom she loved as much as life itself.

Louisa got to her first; so enthusiastic was she that their hug nearly made Maria trip over the carpetbag she'd dropped on the ground. Brigitta was right behind her, and her hug was tight around her waist. Next came the boys, with broad grins as they continued singing. Knowing that hugs embarrassed them in front of their sisters, she playfully ruffled Kurt's hair and pulled down Frederich's hat over his eyes. Then came the little ones, who immediately attached themselves at Maria's side. She knelt down and cupped each of their faces lovingly as they all sang. Rising, she saw that Liesl had come. She had happy tears in her eyes, Maria noticed, as she blew her a kiss. Taking a hand of each of the little ones, the singing group finished their song triumphantly and joyously in beautiful harmony.

Maria had not felt so happy in a week. "Oh, children, I'm so glad to see you!"

"We missed you!" said Marta earnestly.

Maria looked down at her and noticed her adorable smile, missing teeth and all. She rubbed Marta's head affectionately as she replied, "Oh, I missed _you." _She turned to the youngest Von Trapp son, who had a happy, content grin on his face. "Kurt, how are you?"

"Hungry," he replied pleasantly, and the children shared their first real laugh in a week. Maria felt a tug on her skirt, and she looked down to see Gretl showing her her right forefinger, which was bandaged. She knelt down and asked, "Gretl, what happened to your finger?"

"It got caught."

"Caught in what?"

"Frederich's teeth."

The children laughed again, and Maria gave Frederich an exasperated look, but with a smile. These children could be so silly sometimes.

"Fraulein, what happened to your hand?" asked Gretl, holding Maria's right hand in both of her little ones. The other children looked at it and gasped. Maria was confused for a moment, then remembered that she had not yet removed the gauze. She'd all but forgotten about it.

"Oh, you needn't worry, children," said Maria reassuringly as they began to walk towards the house. "I just need to be careful around hot water fresh off the stove." The memory came back in a rush, and Maria gave an apprehensive look at the house. Once again, she felt her nerves creeping up. Thankfully, she was with the children now and could distract herself. She turned to the eldest Von Trapp child and put an arm round her shoulders. The boys had picked up her luggage and carried it for her. "Liesl, are you all right?"

Liesl wrapped her own arm around Maria's waist and shrugged. "Just fair," she replied, trying to sound indifferent, but Maria saw right through that.

"Any telegrams been delivered lately?" she asked gently.

"None at all, Fraulein," she said with a small sigh. "But I'm learning to accept it. I'll be glad when school begins."

"Oh, Liesl," said Maria, everyone stopping now that they had come onto the stone path connecting the terrace and the lake. "You can't use school to escape your problems; you have to face them!" Repeating the Reverend Mother's words, she realized just how true it was. She gained a new confidence in her heart as she looked at each of the children lovingly. "Oh, I have so much to tell you all!"

"We have things to tell you, too!" said Louisa.

Maria smiled. "I'm sure you do."

"Did you get our package, Fraulein?" asked Brigitta.

"Yes, I did," said Maria, reaching out to stroke the girl's cheek. "Something tells me that was your idea."

Brigitta blushed, embarrassed, and held the hand Maria had brought to her face. Maria looked at each child. "Thank you, children, so so much. You have no idea what that package meant to me, how much I loved it, and what it means to me to know this family."

Gretl hugged her around the legs. "But you _are _family, Frauliein Maria."

No words had ever touched a more tender spot in Maria's heart than the words of that little girl. Suddenly overwhelmed, Maria reached down to stroke the girl's hair as Gretl hugged her tightly.

"Oh, Father, look!" Brigitta's voice started the other children yelling to their father that Fraulein Maria had come back from the Abbey. Instantly, Maria's head snapped up – almost involuntarilty – and she saw him.

There he was, standing a the top of the terrace. Looking straight at her. Maria's heart swelled and began to beat rapidly and strongly, like a drum beating in celebration. Ninety percent of the breath seemed to disappear in her lungs. Butterflies in her stomach fluttered in a dance of joy. Her eyes burned as his gaze met hers.

How was it possible to suddenly feel every nerve in your body on fire, but at the same time feel a wave of wonderful, warm, peaceful contentment? He'd suffered, too, just as much as her. Somehow she could sense that, and see that. Any last remnants of anger towards him flew away, replaced with compassion.

She took in the sight of him. Had he changed at all? If anything, he'd become more handsome in her eyes. Perhaps because this time, for the first time, she could look at him without feeling guilty. He was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. The expression on his face was neutral – she'd expected that – but his eyes . . . those beautiful, dangerous orbs of blue fire, had captured her. They radiated surprise, joy, relief, and hope . . . and something more . . .

A few moments after the children had stopped yelling, Maria managed to say the only thing she could think of, caught in that gaze. "Good evening, Captain." Oh, why did her voice have to sound so small and hesitant now?

A moment passed before he gave a reply. His tone reflected his gaze: filled with awe. "Good evening."

Hearing his voice again . . . her heart jumped for joy all over again.

So many new emotions and things to experience, things her heart still needed to know . . . all Maria knew in that moment was this: she knew she had done the right thing by coming back.

THE END

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_If there's one thing I always wanted to give these two, it's a courtship. :) Look for Act III, coming soon!_


End file.
